


Make It Okay

by thefifthfounder



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But so is everyone else, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, but its there, draco is a mess, i probably wont ever finish this, idk why im writing this, its not really important, only a bit though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:53:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26430709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefifthfounder/pseuds/thefifthfounder
Summary: Everyone is suffering after the war. That's to be expected, but Draco still feels out of place. He was on the wrong side, he caused so much pain... He doesn't deserve help.Harry Potter notices. He notices the pain of the people around him, and he tries to help. Because deep down, he knows he is the root of their pain. He can make things right. He has to.Students are returning to Hogwarts for Eight Year, and things couldn't be more different. No-one is the same as they were, but maybe that's a good thing.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warning for self harm (not immensely graphic but still there), disordered eating, suicide, suicidal ideation. im not going to put many notes throughout this fic because I know no one really reads them, but I will leave trigger warnings on each individual chapter. stay safe <3

Draco stared at the envelope in his lap, hardly daring to believe what he was seeing. He counted himself lucky that he had only had to spend a month in Azkaban, and would have been happy to continue on with his life on house arrest... but this... this letter could only mean one thing. 

'Mr Malfoy,  
We are writing to offer you a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Students may return for an Eighth Year to sit their NEWTs. We recommend you attend this final year of education, but the decision lies with you. Please owl us your response by July 31st.  
Yours sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall  
Headmistress' 

Draco's lips parted slightly in disbelief. That was it? No angry footnote, detailing McGonagalls distrust in him? No terms from the Ministry? He tossed the envelope aside, and fell back against his pilows, exhaling deeply. What the fuck was he supposed to do?

On the one hand, Hogwarts was the last place he wanted to be. In a sense it was his own personal hell. The thought of having to come face to face with those he had opposed, those who had been injured, those who had lost friends and family, all because of him... thinking about it made him nauseous. One the other hand, being alone with his thoughts all day everyday was starting to scare him. He was drowning, sinking, suffocating... 

With a jolt, Draco rushed to his feet, scrambling towards his desk. He hastily scrawled a reply, rolling it up and tying it to the leg of his sleeping owl before picking her up, rushing her over to the window and dropping her out. He watched as she plummeted to the ground, stretching out her wings at the last second and flying back up towards the window and giving an indigcant hoot, and then flying away. He watched as she got smaller and smaller, eventually becoming just another pinprick in the sky. 

Perhaps acting on impulse wasn't the best way to handle the situation, but what else was he to do? Thinking, thinking, thinking, he had to STOP THINKING.

Draco didn't feel his knees give way, but he was on the floor, absently scratching his left forearm, where he could feel the jagged lines, secrets he kept so well guarded.

It had started out okay, it really had! The first week in the mannor had been fine. He visited the house elves in the kitchen, visited his mother in the garden, visited the potraits on the wall. Keeping busy, keeping occupied, never standing still for too long, But after a while it got boring, and he moved on.

The second week he decided to take up a hobby. Painting first. He painted the smile on Pansy's face that night at the Yule Ball, he painted his mother sitting on a bench surrounded by roses and white peacocks, he painted he sun peeking over the hills in the early hour of the morning. But the bright yellows and blues and greens slowly morphed into dark blacks, dull greys, bloody reds. Dementors, demons, dark marks all found their way into his paintings. He wanted to stop, stop, stop painting, stop it, STOP IT, but he couldn't, he couldn't stop because if he stopped he would think and he couldn't think, shouldn't think. Something else, a new distraction, a new game...

The third week, Draco took up music. It was something he had enjoyed as a child, before his father had announced that he wasn't to indulge in Those Kind Of Things anymore. But father wasn't here, and Draco could do what he wanted. He picked up his violin and played the first tune that came to mind. It was so natural, so easy, so beautiful. So beautiful it bought tears to his eyes, and he weeped as he played. Draco weeped and the violin weeped and they weeped and they weeped and it wouldn't. Fucking. Stop.

The violins neck snapped. Just like fathers. 

The fourth week, Draco tried his hand at cooking. Cooking was easy, no negative thoughts would come from cooking. This is okay, he told himself, its all okay. The house elves were surpirised at first, but they soon eased up and taught Draco everything they knew. Dish after dish was served, first a crumble, then a cake, then a pie, all baked to perfection. The dishes piled up, overtaking the kitchen. Draco had his cake, but there was no one left to eat it. 'Mr Malfoy sir, Sooty is thinking you should eat the food.' No, Draco thinks, no no, the food isn't for me. _I don't deserve it_.  
So he resists, he resists the food, the taste, the smell, the texture, until he barely remembers what its like to be hungry. But it hits him one night, and hes shaking and crying and hes so. Fucking. Hungry. The kitchens are silent, and Draco eats his cake.

The fifth week, Draco dances. He needs to find a way to shed all that weight he put on, doesn't he? Dancing was another thing he enjoyed as a child, though his father always made him lead. Now, with no one to dance with (mother doesn't get out of bed these days) Draco dances how he wants. He flings himself across the ballroom floor, elegantly, dramatically and he loves it. The rush of endorphines, the way he floats like an angel, who would want to give this up? Draco dances, and dances, and when the room goes black and he finds himself on the floor, he gets up and dances again. The world is getting blurry, by tears or sweat he does not know, but he has to keep dancing, because dancing is keeping him happy, right? Draco is happy. Draco is happy. Draco is happy. 

Week six. Draco crashes. How can he keep moving when he's drained of everything he was? How can he stop thinking when their shrieks wont leave his head? How can he be?

He looks down. Theres blood dripping down his arm, covering his hideous deformity, his _Mark_. Its week ten. His owl just carried off his reply, accepting his place at Hogwarts, because who is he kidding? These walls are stained with blood, and he can't take it anymore. Its Hogwarts, or Death.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry glanced nervously around the Great Hall, finally restored to its original glory. He tried not to think about the castle like that, the way it had been torn down, destroyed, ruined, because of the war he started. No, shut up Harry, this isn't about you, none of this is about you. 

The Gryffindor table. A sea of red and gold, with the occasional splash of blue and yellow. (McGonagall had abolished the idea that members of each house should sit together. Harry thought it was a brilliant idea. Many disagreed.) His eyes fell onto a head of fiery red hair. Ginny. She sat in deep conversation with Luna, both of them looking tense, agitated. _Broken. Because of you._ No, fuck off. This isn't my fucking pity party. Ginny glanced away from her blonde companion, and hazel eyes met emerald. Harry nodded reassuringly, to which she replied with a small smile. Things would never be the same between them. Harry killed her brother. But at least he could try to help her. 

Further down the table, the Patil twins are holding hands, and Pavarti is crying. She lost her best friend. Neville and Seamus try to cheer her up, but it isn't working. Why should it? Its not their fault Lavendar Brown is gone. 

Dean Thomas is struggling to breathe. No one has noticed, because of course they haven't. All around him, students are reliving their trauma, but not Harry, never Harry. He's the reason they are hurt in the first place, he can't feel sorry for himself. 

The Hufflepuff table. Hannah Abbot went missing before the final battle broke out. They found her body two weeks ago. Another tragic loss for Hufflepuff. _Your fault, Harry._ Piss off. Not many Hufflepuffs had returned for eighth year. Ernie Macmillan sat alone, the usual pompousness about his manner gone. Zacharias Smith returned too. He still looked like a dickhead.

The Ravenclaw table, perhaps the most empty of them all. Hermione had said that the Ravenclaws hadn't felt the need to return to Hogwarts when they had the knowledge they needed to pass the NEWT's outside of school. Still, Padma had returned to support her sister, and Luna returned for her seventh year. Both seemed exhausted, and neither sat with their fellow Ravenclaws. Change...

The Slytherin table. Harry was shocked that so many had returned to Hogwarts. He had nothing against them anymore... it was hardly their fault that they got caught up in their parents war... Harry's war... NO. The Slytherins stared about the hall, determined, defiant, as if daring anyone to question them. Huddled at the end of the table were Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zambini, Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott. The four of them sat close, protection, a barrier, eyes darting wildly. No one felt safe, it was clearer now more than ever. The memories were too much to handle. 

As Harry continued to stare around the hall, he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. Its not that he was actively searching for him, but the absence of silvery blonde hair was loud. Harry had shared a few words with Draco after his trial, and they had exchanged a few.. not friendly but amicable letters at the start of Draco's house arrest. Harry hadn't heard from him in several weeks though, so it shouldn't come as too much of a surprise that he wasn't there.

'Harry? _Harry!_ ' A sharp jab in the rib bought him back to his senses. Hermione was staring at him in concern, clearly she had been trying to get his attention. After the final battle, she and Ron had moved into Grimmauld Place with him. They said it was because they wanted to stick together, but Harry knew they we're lying. They we're worried about him, but he couldn't figure out why. There was nothing wrong with him, it was everyone else who needed help. 

'Huh? What?'

'I asked what you thought about McGonagall's house unity policy?'

'Oh, right. I think its great. I mean, things wouldn't have got this far if we hadn't houses in the first place, right?'

Hermione beamed at him. 'That's exactly what I was thinking. It will be nice to get a fresh start!'

Ron snorted. 'A fresh start? Hermione look at them!' he gestured towards Pansy Parkinsons group at the end of the Slytherin table with his fork. When Hermione raised her eyebrows in question, he sighed dramatically. ' _Look at them._ All huddled together, shooting daggers at everyone... they're _up to something!_ '

Hermione let out a cackle. ' _Up to something?_ You sound like Harry! No offence, Harry,' she added, smirking slightly.

'None taken. Look mate,' he turned to Ron, 'we just need to put all that shit behind us. The war is over. They did what they had to do. Just leave it.' he warned when Ron opened his mouth to protest. The redhead sagged in his seat. Harry had grown used to Ron's animosity towards the green house over the past few years, but it was quite honestly exhausting now. Everything was.

A hush fell across the hall as McGonagall rose to her feet. She had been acting as headmistress before Snape took over and was more than happy to take on the job after Voldemort's death. The majority of students were glad of this - she was a damned capable witch, and was certainly less manipulative than Dumbledore. 'Welcome back to Hogwarts everyone! I know you must all be exhausted, but I have a few words to say before you leave for bed. Firstly, as I mentioned before the feast, whilst you will sleep in dormitories with members of your house, there are no restrictions on common rooms or house tables. Inter-house communications are encouraged. Secondly, the faculty understand that this will be a difficult year for many. Subsequently, we will be more lenient with most rules, but the forbidden forest remains out of bounds to _all_ students. I would also like to note that any discrimination, whether that be based on house, blood type, or anything unrelated to magic, will result in your immediate suspension.' McGonagall was certainly doing a better job than Dumbledore. There were no cryptic warnings in the welcome speech, for one. 'All eight years please remain behind. That will be all. Goodnight.'

The sound of benches scraping sounded throughout the hall as seventh year and below stood and filtered out of the hall, When the hall was nearly empty, McGonagall beckoned the Eighth Years into a small group at the foot of the teachers table. Looking around, Harry counted fourteen students: himself, Ron and Hermione, Dean, Seamus, Neville and Pavarti from Gryffindor, Pansy, Blaise, Daphne, and Theodore from Slytherin, Ernie and Zacharias from Hufflepuff and just Padma from Ravenclaw. 

McGonagall spoke. 'Welcome back, all of you. I shall cut right to the chase. You will all be living in a new wing of the castle, which we added on when we were rebuilding the castle. As you are all of age, you will have free reign of the castle at all times, but I ask you not to disturb any of the younger students. Hogsmeade visits will be every weekend for you, but you may not invite another student. This year you will have more free time, but I urge you to focus on your exams as best you can. Now, allow me to lead you to your dwellings.' 

The eighth years followed her through the large oak doors to the great hall, and down a long passageway to the left. They continued along the passage for what seemed like an hour, sharing looks of confusion as it got progressively darker. Then, brackets on the walls burst into flame as McGonagall jabbed her wand into a hole in the wall and twisted it. The wall seemed to melt away, and suddenly they we're stood in the middle of a magnificent room. 

'Bloody hell.'

'Did we just Apparate?'

'Don't be stupid, you can't Apparate inside Hogwarts grounds, you should know that by now!' 

McGonagall smiled at the group. 'No Mr Finnegan, we did not just Apparate, this was a rather complex Disillusion Charm performed by Professor Flitwick. All you have to do to enter the room is poke your wand into the whole in the wall with the intent of getting to the common room,'

'This is our _common room_?'

'Yes Mr Weasley. Do you have a problem with that?'

'Well its not very... common... is it?' 

Though everyone sniggered at his comment, the eighth years agreed with Ron. The common room had high ceilings, mahogany floors, wide, arched windows, Several large fireplaces stood against the walls, cozy armchairs placed in front of them. To the left of them were three doors, which Professor McGonagall addressed. 'These two doors,' she gestured to the one on the left and the one on the right, 'will lead to your dormitories. And this one,' she gestured to the door in the middle, 'will take you anywhere in the castle. Anywhere you want.' 

Harry fucking loved magic.

'So, I will hand out your timetables for the fortnight. At the bottom of your timetable you will see who you will be sharing a dormitory with. Boys are on the left, girls are on the right. Goodnight.' 

Once McGonagall had left the room, the students broke out into lazy conversation. All we're exhausted, but none wanted to go to sleep just yet. 

'Hey Harry, who are you rooming with?' Ron asked, staring at his timetable in disappointment.

Harry looked down at his timetable, scanning past all the lessons to the bottom. 

_Dorm Two_

_Harry Potter_

_Zacharias Smith_

_Draco Malfoy_


End file.
